


(Leave You All) Severed

by plutonianshores



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Arousal, Gunplay, Multi, Rape Aftermath, Secondary Delilah Briarwood/Sylas Briarwood/Cassandra de Rolo, Torture, broken fingers, tongue removal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 07:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20671634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/pseuds/plutonianshores
Summary: When the Briarwoods come back into his life, Percy decides he should face them himself instead of dragging his friends into his own problems. This proves to be a mistake.





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [plutonianshores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/pseuds/plutonianshores) in the [iibb2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/iibb2019) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Canon-divergence AU Percy whump set during the Briarwoods arc, in which Percy runs off to take down the Briarwoods by himself and they Fuck Him Up, and then the rest of Vox Machina help him recover

The door to his cell began to open, and Percy flinched away. Nothing good came of doors opening. Either it was Cassandra, who he still couldn't bring himself to look at, or it was the Briarwoods come to torture him again. Likely the Briarwoods, since he couldn’t imagine Cassandra would have left him locked in the dungeon for three days if she had any other choice.

"Percy?"

That wasn't the Briarwoods, and it wasn't Cassandra. Percy looked up, convinced he was hallucinating, to see Keyleth standing in the doorway.

He stood up as best he could given the chains around his wrists, and almost fell right over again when Keyleth ran forward and hugged him.

"You could have died!"

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!" Vex glared at him. "The next time you run off to your death I'll track you down and kill you myself."

Percy had so much he wanted to _say_. The words piled up in his throat, and he let out a groan of frustration, not quite loud enough for anyone to notice.

Vax filtered into the cell next, lockpicks in hand. He had to nudge Keyleth aside to reach the manacles, but once he had them within reach he made short work of the locks. "Anything we should know about, Freddy? Traps, enemies?"

Percy shook his head in frustration. He looked straight at the group and opened his mouth wide, making sure they all had a clear view of the stub where his tongue had been. _I can't tell you_, he wanted to say, and _don't you dare pity me. _

Keyleth gasped, and both twins went pale. Percy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. Not their fault, he reminded himself. This was his own damn fault, and putting up with his friends' discomfort was the least of what he'd suffered this past week.

Percy didn’t wait for them to recover from their shock before shoving past them. If Vox Machina was here, things would have begun to blow up; they never went anywhere quietly. And if they’d made a commotion, that put Cassandra in danger.

He was ready to tear his way through the castle bare-handed to find her, injuries be damned. He barely heard Vex and Keyleth shouting after him, and didn’t stop when he made out what they were saying. It would take too long to explain what he needed.

Percy made it out of the dungeon and ran straight into someone waiting at the top of the stairs. After a moment of panic, he recognized them – Cassandra. He wrapped her into a hug, and after a moment of hesitation, she laughed and hugged him back.

"I’m all right, I’m all right! I...wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me."

Percy tried to make his disapproval of that sentiment clear on his face.

"Your friends are just as formidable as you promised." Cassandra looked around at Keyleth, Vex, and Vax, gathered at the top of the stairs. "Percy, we’ve finished it. The Briarwoods are dead, their cronies are dead, Whitestone is ours."

The anger hit Percy like a punch to the gut. It scared him, how furious he was that _he_ hadn’t been the one to kill them. He’d spent so long fantasizing about shooting in the faces of everyone who had wronged him, and now they’d all gone and died when he was locked away. (He remembered sitting in the corner of his cell, staring down at his crooked fingers, and feeling something leave him, knowing he was useless.)

He made himself smile at Cassandra.

Then he took a full look at the hallway, and panic replaced the anger. Pike was there (although not _quite_ there, dipping in and out of view in a golden light), but Scanlan and Grog were nowhere to be seen. He could have told himself he missed Scanlan, but Grog--

"We’re all here," Keyleth said, noticing his panic. "Grog and Scanlan are all right. They’re keeping an eye on the entrance, making sure no one comes up and surprises us."

Oh, thank the gods. No one had died for him. Percy wasn’t sure how he would have lived with himself if someone had died fixing his idiotic mistake.

"Percy?" Pike reached a hand out to him, her flickering touch spreading warmth across his skin. "Do you need healing?"

Percy wished more than anything he could lean on someone else to explain. He also wished he could believe the spark of hope that said _maybe she can fix this_.

He opened his mouth again, and held up his hands. Pike bit her lip as she looked him over, more worried than he’d seen her in a while.

"I can try," she said finally. "The fingers...if I heal you while they’re crooked, they’ll stay crooked. Someone needs to set them. Percy, this will hurt."

_So did getting them broken_. He smiled at her and shrugged.

No one wanted to be the one to do it. Understandable (who wanted to break their friend’s fingers, one by one?), but it didn’t make Percy feel any less of an imposition. If Pike were here in person, she would have done it, calmly and methodically. Instead, Keyleth stepped up after a long and awkward wait.

Percy held out his hand to her, and she took his index finger in her own hand. She hesitated, hands shaking, before snapping the bend straight.

He tried not to cry out, but he’d tried so hard to be quiet through everything the Briarwoods had done that he simply didn’t have it in him to bite back his shout.

"I’m sorry!" Keyleth murmured.

_Just do it,_ he wanted to say. In lieu of words, he shook his hand at her.

She made it one more finger before sinking back with a strangled sob. "I can’t do this. I’m sorry! I can’t."

Percy might have said something very cruel just then, if he could talk. This hurt like hell, and he wanted it _over_, and there were quite a few things building up in his mouth for which it would take a long time for Keyleth to forgive him. But he couldn’t say any of them, so he shut his eyes and tried to school his face into calmness.

"Let me." Of everyone there, Percy hadn’t expected Cassandra to volunteer. He met her eyes and nodded, trying and failing to find any trace of emotion in her expression.

She was brisk and stronger than Percy had expected, setting the rest of the fingers on his right hand in quick succession without hesitating when Percy cried out.

Then Cassandra paused, resting her hand on his wrist with sympathy on her face. "Do you need me to stop for a moment?"

Percy shook his head, and she continued. He’d thought his hands hurt before this, everything bent wrong and grinding against itself, but this was so much worse. Each break set a new beacon of pain alight, and by the end, it took everything he had not to pull his hand away.

As soon as Cassandra finished, Pike laid a hand on his shoulder. Percy felt her magic fizz through him like bubbles in champagne. The pain in his fingers and the aches all over his body faded into nothing, and he relaxed muscles he hadn’t even realized were tensed. Percy flexed his fingers and waited for longer than his rational mind knew he should, and then turned to Pike and shook his head.

She wrapped him in a hug, warm against him. "I gave it everything I had," she murmured in his ear.

_I know_, Percy wanted to say. He squeezed her hand, hoping she understood.

She began to flicker. "I’m so sorry, I have to go."

Percy gave her a wave, not wanting to acknowledge the emptiness he felt at seeing his only hope of healing dissolving into air. He didn’t blame her, he _didn’t_, but he couldn’t let go of the disappointment.

"I don’t know about you," Vax said, looking around at the rest of Vox Machina, "but I’m ready to get the fuck out of here for the night. You need anything, Freddy?"

Percy stuck out two of his fingers like a gun and mimed pulling the trigger. Then he gestured down the hall, making sure he had at least someone’s attention before setting off.

The Briarwoods had taken his parents’ bedroom. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to walk through the door without flinching again; one more thing those bastards had taken from him. Percy lingered in the doorway, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t in any danger. They were _dead_, his friends had _killed _them, they weren’t going to leap out from behind the bed and grab him.

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. Percy froze, breath catching in his throat, until he recognized Vex standing behind him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Percy waved her off. He’d be better once he had the List in his hand and he was out of this godsforsaken mausoleum.

The drawer they’d placed it in was locked. Percy wasn’t sure why he’d expected it to be open. They had both been careful to a fault. It still felt like failure to beckon Vax over.

Percy tapped on the drawer he’d seen Delilah slide the gun into, then waited for Vax to pick the lock.

"They really wanted to keep this away from you, hmm?" Vax said. "Probably knew you’d shoot them otherwise."

He tried to hide the flash of panic at the real reason why the Briarwoods had decided to keep it in their bedroom, and mostly succeeded. Percy did his best not to snatch it from Vax’s hand. With his finger on the trigger, he felt safe for the first time since the Briarwoods had caught him.

Everyone was staring at him. Percy tried at a smile, and managed a grimace.

"You ready to go?" Vax asked.

Percy shook his head, then sighed. He wasn’t going to act this out in some sort of twisted game of charades.

The Briarwoods had kept the writing desk stocked. Percy scrambled for a pen and blotting paper and scrawled out, _I want to see the bodies._

"They’re dead, darling," Vex said.

Percy stabbed his finger underneath the words. He needed to _see_ them.

"They’re in the library," said Cassandra. "I can promise you that they’re dead, Percy. Do you still need to see them?"

He nodded. He shouldn’t need this, but he needed to see for himself.

Percy set off for the library, not bothering to see if anyone was following him. They could find their own way to him, or wait there. He wanted to get out, and he wanted to make sure the Briarwoods wouldn’t hurt anyone again.

Sylas was slumped over the desk, Delilah on the ground with a hole blown in her chest. Even seeing them like this set his heart racing. _Weak. Cowardly._ He nudged the side of Sylas’s head with the barrel of his gun, then held the barrel to Sylas’s temple and pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked. No ammunition – it was unloaded, he’d _known_ it was unloaded. Percy grabbed hold of the barrel and drove the grip into Sylas’s head, again and again, until he heard the crack of bone and Sylas began to turn to jelly under his blows.

"Percy!" Vex shouted. "He’s dead."

Percy didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. This was his vengeance, stolen from him. This was the man who had done unspeakable things to his family, and to him, and he needed _something_ to let out the anger that was threatening to tear him apart.

Vex grabbed at his arm. Percy whirled around, the gun’s grip smashing into her side in the process.

He hadn’t meant to do that. Percy backed away, slid down to a seat against the nearest bookshelf, and began to sob.

Cassandra crouched down beside him. Percy hadn’t even seen her enter. She didn’t reach out to touch him, thank the gods. "You’ll feel better if we leave."

Percy nodded, took a few more gasping breaths, and stood up. He grimaced at Vex, wishing he could apologize.

"I know you didn’t mean to," Vex said. "Let’s just get out of here."

He spun his gun around and slid it against his hip, aiming for the holster the Briarwoods had taken from him soon after they took the gun itself. It left a smear of gore across his trousers, but they were ruined anyway. Then he caught sight of a similar smear of red on Vex’s armor. He gestured to it, doing his best to look apologetic.

Vex looked down and laughed. "Oh, don’t feel bad about that, darling. We’ve both had worse than a bit of Sylas on us after a battle."

Percy shrugged, her laughter spreading to him despite himself. He didn’t want to think about what it would take to clean his gun, but he could deal with that after he slept.

***

They joined Scanlan and Grog as they walked out, and Percy tried for a smile, dreading the moment they realized just how bad off he was. Vex pulled them aside to talk to them, for which Percy was pathetically grateful. His friends avoided looking at him, at the bruises on his face and the blood speckled all over him. Cassandra snuck glances at him every few moments, worry clear on her face. Percy wasn’t sure which he hated more.

They slept in an abandoned building that night, with the excuse of needing to search the castle for traps. Percy knew it was because they’d all seen how he reacted to the place. He could feel the Briarwoods’ influence oozing off of every wall.

He fell asleep pressed up against a wall, as far from his companions as he could manage, and woke up screaming. Which, of course, woke everyone else, stumbling to their feet with hands on their weapons.

Half-asleep still, Percy tried to tell them it was just a dream. It wasn’t until the words left his mouth as incoherent noises that he remembered why he couldn’t.

"What’s wrong?" Keyleth asked.

Percy made a shooing motion, then tapped his head. _I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake everyone up. Just a nightmare._ The limits of his communication closed in on him, and he felt like he was suffocating on everything he couldn’t say. And this was the rest of his _life_, charades and gestures and a quill and ink when they could get them. Writing back and forth wouldn’t work in a cave, or a dragon’s den.

He laid back down, ignoring Keyleth’s concerned look, and focused on making his breathing even enough that she might believe he was asleep. Eventually, he could hear everyone else settling back down, after Keyleth’s murmur of, "A nightmare, I think."

He didn’t sleep much the rest of the night.

***

Percy wanted nothing more than to go back to Greyskull Keep, shut himself in his room, and ignore everyone else’s concern. Unfortunately, he had a city to deal with. There was so much to _do_, so much to rebuild, so many people to meet with.

After the first morning, he shut himself into his old bedroom and panicked. This wing of the castle had seemingly been abandoned as soon as the Briarwoods arrived, so he had hope that none of Vox Machina would be able to find him here.

He hadn’t counted on Cassandra. She found him just after the first wave of panic had subsided, walking into his bedroom and saying, without preamble, "You need help."

Percy looked up at her from where he was sitting, leaned against his bedframe, and laughed. He certainly did.

Cassandra’s normally solemn expression twitched into a smirk. "I meant with administrative duties, although I won’t deny the other possible meanings. Here, let’s talk about it." She sat down across from him, setting a piece of paper and an inkwell on the ground next to him. "Your friends need you, and you’re much more suited to whatever adventuring you get up to with them than rebuilding Whitestone. You can’t stand being here, and you look like a deer in the sights of a hunter whenever you have to meet with someone. I, on the other hand, have no outside life to speak of, and a keener sense for what Whitestone needs.What do you say?"

Percy took the quill from the inkwell, worried she would rush him through his answer just as she’d rushed through her proposal. But she waited patiently as he wrote out, fingers still stiff from the recent healing, _Don’t you need time to recover as well?_ It would be a gift, Cassandra stepping up to do what he couldn’t, but Percy didn’t want to throw her to the wolves.

"I want nothing more than to have something to do. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, Percy. You understand that, I think?"

Percy nodded.

"And...I want the people of Whitestone to trust me again. I don’t know if anyone has told you about this, but there was an earlier attempt at a rebellion, one that failed. That failure was because of me. It was safer, easier, to go along with what the Briarwoods said. I very nearly betrayed your friends as well, but I knew that the Briarwoods would kill you eventually. You couldn’t follow orders like I could."

He wanted so badly to comfort her, to tell her that none of this was her fault. She had been a _child_ when he’d left her, and she couldn’t have been much older when this rebellion had taken place. In place of everything he wanted to say, Percy held his arms open. After a moment’s hesitation, Cassandra hugged him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I couldn’t have borne it if you died," she said.

Percy held her until she pulled away. Then he took up the quill again and wrote, _I love you. None of that was your fault._ He underlined the second sentence when Cassandra began to protest.

She held up her hands in surrender. "All right, I won’t argue."

_Your plan sounds wonderful,_ he wrote. _Please let <strike>us</strike> me know if you need any help. ANY help, even if it’s small._

Cassandra nodded, a grin spreading across her face. "It’s so wonderful to have a brother again."

Percy hugged her again.

***

The next day, after many assurances that Cassandra would be all right on her own, Vox Machina returned to Greyskull Keep and Percy returned to his bedroom. He talked the kitchen into sending him up meals, and after the first few awkward silences, the servants learned not to talk to him.

He wasn’t so lucky with his friends. Every day someone popped in to make sure he didn’t need anything, or invite him to dinner, or tell him it was high time he stopped moping and came out. Percy tried pretending to sleep, staring blankly during their attempts at conversation, and throwing things at them, but nothing stopped them. Percy supposed he should be grateful for their persistence. Mostly, he just wanted to pull his gun on them.

Today, the designated visitor was Vax.

"I know, I know, you want me to go away," he said. "Let’s take that as a given and move on."

Percy moved to shut the door in his face, but Vax caught the door before he could.

"If you lock me out, I’ll just pick the lock. I really do think you’ll want to hear this."

Percy glared at him and sat down on his bed. He’d listen, but Vax couldn’t make him be happy about it.

"I’ve been talking to Gilmore. Don’t look at me like that, I haven’t told him anything beyond what everyone knows. But he had a friend when he was younger who couldn’t hear, and he learned a language of gestures to communicate with him. He’d be willing to teach all of us, if you’re willing to learn."

Vax had been right, Percy _did_ want to hear this. Being able to talk to his friends again, instead of painstakingly write all of his thoughts out (assuming he had the _time _to write it out), would change everything. If it meant learning another language, so be it. He’d learned languages before.

"I take it you’re interested, then?"

Percy nodded.

"I’ve also been ordered to invite you to dinner. We have something that can help with the whole talking thing." Vax pulled a chalkboard and a piece of chalk from underneath his cloak. "I know you don’t want to hear this, but we’re all worried about you. We won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to, I promise. At least, _I_ won’t."

Percy gave another much more grudging nod. He could put up with one dinner, especially if he could participate in the conversation in a method marginally faster than ink and paper.

***

Vax kept to his promise not to force Percy to talk about his time with the Briarwoods, but not everyone else did. It took a bit of juggling to keep from getting chalk dust in in his food, but the dinner began well enough after he’d adjusted. Holding up a slate that said _boo_ at Scanlan’s bad jokes was even more satisfying than reproaching him verbally, and everyone worked out a system of reading his replies to Grog when relevant.

Then Vex asked, "Are you all right, Percy? And be honest."

Percy glared at her and Vax in turn, then wrote, _As well as expected_.

"You haven’t talked about what happened. And I know it can be hard to communicate, but you haven’t mentioned anything at all. We’re all worried about you."

Wonderful, an intervention. _Too long to write_, he wrote.

"What if we had a way for you to talk to us without writing?" Keyleth this time. "We’ve been asking around. If you’re willing, there’s a spell that could create a telepathic bond between us, temporarily. Allura knows somebody who could cast it."

Percy didn’t want to tell them, but he knew he should. Not the full story, but enough to explain what was wrong with him. They’d seen him at close to his worst when they found him in Stilben, and they deserved at least something of a picture of what the Briarwoods had done.

_I’ll do it_, he wrote, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d only tell them what they needed to know. They didn’t need the whole picture, and some of it wasn’t his to tell.

"Wonderful!" Keyleth said. "Can we meet tomorrow morning?"

***

Allura’s friend was a dour elf who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

"I won’t be joining you in this conversation," they said. "Once I cast, you’ll have an hour. Make good use of it, because I won’t be casting this spell for you again."

"Thank you," Keyleth said, sounding much more grateful than Percy could have managed under the circumstances. "I can’t tell you how much we all appreciate this."

The elf didn’t answer her, instead pulling something out of their components pouch and crushing it in their hand. They let the pieces fall to the ground and murmured an incantation, and suddenly Percy could hear a mess of words clouding up the air.

"All right, Percy, can you say something?" Vex asked out loud.

_You’re lucky I agreed to this_, he thought, and couldn’t help but smile when everyone reacted to his words. _Everyone can hear me?_

The group nodded.

"You don’t need to tell us anything you don’t want to," Keyleth said, "but Percy, you were really hurt. You ran off in the middle of the night, and then when we found you, you were…" She trailed off, gesturing at him. "What did they _do_ to you?"

Percy meant to tell them an abridged version, without the details he was most ashamed of. But when Keyleth asked him that, he couldn’t help but remember.


	2. Recall

Percy knew as soon as he heard the Briarwoods’ names again that he couldn’t drag his friends into this mess. It was his past and his problem, and he couldn’t bear the thought of any of Vox Machina being injured or, gods forbid, killed because of him. (He didn’t want to risk them stealing his chance of revenge from him, a quiet voice in the back of his head said.)

He wrote a note explaining everything, left it in a drawer of his desk that they likely wouldn’t search unless he didn’t return, and wrote a second note saying only that he had business to take care of that he left on his pillow. Then he gathered his gun, ammunition, and enough food for the journey, and set off.

It should have made him suspicious how easy it was to infiltrate Whitestone, but Percy only thought himself lucky. He crept through the halls of the castle, memories of which corridors would keep him hidden returning from childhood games of hide and seek. It was long past dusk, and if Percy’s intuition was correct, the Briarwoods would be sleeping in his parents’ bedchamber. He could shoot them before they saw him coming.

The door to the bedroom was open. That should have made him suspicious. Instead, it made him reckless. They were so at home in their stolen kingdom that they no longer bothered to protect themselves, he thought. The door slid open quietly, without even a creak of the hinges. Percy leveled his gun at one of the two sleeping forms in the bed, and tightened his finger on the trigger.

Something hit him square in the gut, sending him sprawling into the doorframe. His head hit the wood hard, and he dropped his gun.

When he looked up, Delilah Briarwood was standing over him. "Percival, dear! We’ve been waiting for you."

Percy scrambled for the List, only for Delilah to slam her foot down on his fingers. The sole of her shoe bit into his skin (she must have been expecting him, if she’d worn shoes to bed.) Percy tried to pull away and she ground down. He could feel the bones of his fingers snap.

He tried to reach out with his left hand, but Delilah caught his wrist with her other foot, then deliberately stomped on that hand as well. Percy screamed. When she lifted her foot, he scrambled away, hands drawn up to his chest.

Delilah took his gun from the ground, stroking her thumb over the barrel. "Oh, this is a lovely piece of work. I’m sure you understand that I’ll need to hang onto it. Now, why don’t you let me show you to a guest room."

She pressed the barrel into the back of his neck, and gestured for him to stand. Percy obeyed, following her as she guided him down the hall to one of the guest rooms. The bed was made up with fresh linens and there was a fire burning in the grate – they really _had_ been expecting him, then.

"You’ll be joining us for breakfast in the morning," Delilah said, stroking his neck with the barrel of his gun. "I’ll lock you in until then. I’m sure you understand my concerns. Can’t have you trying another attempt on my life, after all." She laughed.

Percy climbed onto the bed at her prompting, careful to keep his hands from touching anything. He waited until he heard the click of a key in the lock and footsteps down the hallway before he laid down and started to cry.

***

He was staring at the door when Sylas opened it the next morning. He’d examined every corner of the room, ignoring the pain in his hands, but there was absolutely nothing that could be used as a weapon, and Percy wasn’t confident enough in his odds of fighting either Briarwood unarmed.

"My wife told me you’d arrived," Sylas said, sarcastic charm thick in his voice. "I assume she informed you that you’ll be joining us for breakfast this morning."

"Fuck you," Percy said, not liking the way his voice quavered.

Sylas clicked his tongue. "Is that any way to speak to your host? I trust you’ll remember your manners soon, or we might be forced to remind you."

Percy grimaced. Everything in him screamed not to bow to their games, but he would have a better chance of escaping if they thought he was playing along. He let Sylas lead him to the dining room without any further comments.

Delilah had taken his mother’s place at one end of the table. There was someone else sitting there. Percy squinted, sure he was mistaken.

"Good morning, Percival," Cassandra said.

Percy tried to run to her, stopping with a cry when Sylas took hold of his hand.

"You’ll have time to talk over breakfast," Sylas said. "I’m sure you two are happy to see each other."

"There’s really nothing like the bond siblings share, is there?" Delilah said.

"There isn’t." Cassandra barely looked at Percy, and her voice was flat. He wanted to hug he rand tell her how happy he was that she was still alive, or apologize for leaving her behind, or ask what the fuck they’d done to her to leave her so calm and pliant, but both Briarwoods were staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to sit down. "I trust you’re well, brother."

"As well as can be expected." Percy tilted his head at her, trying to figure out a way to ask if she was all right (or at least not in immediate danger), and Cassandra gave the slightest shake of her head.

He’d leave this to her, then. She’d survived this long, after all.

Delilah smiled at him. "Sit down and eat your eggs, Percival, or they’ll get cold."

Percy picked up his fork, forcing a smile as he did so. Damned if he’d let them see him cry. He could see a flicker of concern in Cassandra’s eyes, although she masked it almost as soon as he noticed.

After several fork drops and a few stifled screams, Percy managed to finish his eggs. He dropped his fork triumphantly and grinned at the Briarwoods. He must have looked more than a little unhinged, but neither said anything, just continued their disturbingly mundane conversation with Cassandra.

"You may be excused, Cassandra," Delilah said after a long and monotonous conversation about the weather. "Percival, Sylas will walk you back to your room."

They didn’t need to lock Cassandra in, then. They’d both been so young when they last saw each other, but Percy remembered a girl who would never stop fighting, not this perfectly-behaved automaton. She walked slowly down the hall, Sylas and Percy only a bit behind her, and disappeared into the room next to Percy’s.

Percy collapsed onto the bed as soon as he was sure Sylas was gone, trying to ignore the throbbing in his fingers. Then something banged on the wall.

For a moment, he panicked. Then he remembered Cassandra. He ran to the wall they shared and pressed his ear to the stone.

"Percy, are you there?"

He could have cried to hear her speaking with actual emotion in her voice. "I’m here!"

"I don’t know how long we have to talk. Listen, if you don’t do what they say they’ll hurt you."She sounded so afraid. Percy hadn’t thought he could hate the Briarwoods any more than he already did; he’d been wrong.

"They _already_ hurt me. I can handle it."

"They can do worse. Trust me, Percy, they can do worse."

"My friends will come after me." Percy prayed that they would. "They’ll help us, Cass. I was stupid enough to think I could fight the Briarwoods on my own, but together, they’ll be able to take them. We’ve killed a _dragon_, two backstabbing bastards are nothing."

Cassandra laughed. "A dragon? You’ll have to tell me about that."

Percy sat against the wall most of the morning, telling Cassandra about Vox Machina. She didn’t want to talk about what she’d been through here with the Briarwoods, and Percy didn’t blame her. Once they were face to face and out of danger, he promised himself, he would apologize for leaving her here. He didn’t want to whisper that through a wall.

When Sylas came to fetch him for lunch, Percy just managed to turn away from the wall and shut his eyes, hoping to feign sleep.

"I know you’ve been talking to your sister," Sylas said, an unsettling smile on his face. "As long as you behave, you’re welcome to your conversations. Once we can trust you not to run off, you’ll be able to talk face to face."

***

Percy and Cassandra talked more carefully after that. Nothing of substance, nothing that could be used against them. Their private conversation were nearly as stifled as the meals the Briarwoods forced them to share. They kept Percy locked in the bedroom except for meals, and although he tried, he couldn’t manage to pocket anything useful from the table. His fingers settled crooked and clawed, and ached whenever he moved. He tried to tie up a few of them in a splint using fabric he could find in his bedroom, but after the hours of pain and fumbled knots, Delilah took them off at the next meal ("You have to accept your punishment, Percival.")

One night after dinner, Delilah took Cassandra’s arm as she finished eating. "Why don’t you join us in bed tonight, dear?"

Cassandra looked at her stone-faced. "Of course, Lady Briarwood."

It took a moment for Percy to realize what that meant. He’d put the casual touches of the Briarwoods down to some sort of twisted attempt at familial affection, and Cassandra had never elaborated on just what the Briarwoods had done to her. A wave of nausea overtook him.

"Don’t!" he shouted.

Sylas grabbed Percy by the shoulder, digging his fingers painfully into Percy’s neck. "Mind your tongue, boy."

"Percy, let it be," Cassandra said, her facade cracking a bit.

"Take me instead."

"Didn’t Sylas just tell you to mind your tongue?" Delilah murmured a spell, and suddenly Percy couldn’t move. Sylas dug his fingers into Percy’s face, forcing his jaw open, and took a knife from the table. He reached into Percy’s mouth and pulled at his tongue, then wedged the knife inside.

Percy wanted to scream, but the sound was trapped in his throat. He wanted to fight, but his arms were locked in place. Sylas pressed the knife down, and Percy’s mouth filled with blood.

Delilah’s spell released its grip, and Percy fell to the ground, choking on blood.

"Cassandra, dear, I think we’ll meet you in your bedroom tonight instead. Meet us there."

Cassandra didn’t quite run, but she walked as quickly as possible without running out of the dining room, shooting Percy an apologetic glance as she left.

Sylas hauled Percy up and marched him to the bedroom, locking him in. Percy couldn’t make it to the bed, instead curling up on the floor next to the door. He spat more blood onto the floor, trying to breathe through the pain and the slick slide of blood down his throat.

Something was knocking at the wall. _Cassandra_, he thought, but it was steady and rhythmic, like—a bedframe hitting it. Focused on the noise, Percy could hear muffled moans. He wanted to scream, but they would hear him.

The noises went on for what seemed like hours. Percy tried to ignore them (he didn’t want to hear this, Cassandra wouldn’t want him to hear this, he wanted to vomit) but there was nothing else to focus on aside from the dull ache in his fingers and the sharp pain in his mouth.

When the room was finally, blessedly quiet, Percy made his way to the wall he shared with Cassandra. He had to shuffle along on the ground after almost passing out when he tried to stand (it looked like half his blood was now spattered across the bedroom instead of inside of him, although he knew it must be less than it looked). He knocked, the pattern of three they’d begun to use to signal to each other.

She didn’t answer.

***

No one came for him the next morning. He would be hungry later, Percy knew, but currently he couldn’t bear the thought of trying to eat. He would have done nearly anything for a glass of water, though, or anything to wash the taste of blood out of his mouth.

No one came for him that afternoon. Percy tried to sleep, but after the third time waking up after a dream of choking, he gave up and laid on his side, staring at the wall.

No one came for him at dinnertime, and Percy began to worry that they intended to leave him here to starve. It was entirely possible that only the Briarwoods and Cassandra knew he was here, and Cassandra couldn’t do anything to help him on her own.

That night, he was awoken by the click of a key in the lock. Delilah entered, smiling coldly at him.

"Have you learned your lesson about speaking out of turn?"

Percy glared at her.

She held her arm out. "Are you going to come with me willingly, or do I have to drag you?" When Percy didn’t move, she snapped her fingers. "You won’t like what happens if you make me wait."

He scrambled to his feet and followed, hating himself for it. She led him to his parents’ bedchamber—the Briarwoods’ bedchamber, now. Delilah wound her hand through his hair possessively and nudged him onto the bed.

Sylas stroked a thumb over Percy’s lips. "It’s a shame we can’t use your mouth, but I’m sure we’ll manage to have some fun with you anyway.Now, undress."

Percy hesitated, but he couldn’t see an alternative to following orders. He tugged at his shirt, grimacing at the pain the movement sent through his hands, and then did his best to take his trousers off.

Delilah tossed his clothes aside and reached for something on her nightstand. She pressed cold metal to Percy’s temple, and he froze.

"Roll over," she said.

Percy did as he was told.

Delilah placed a hand on the small of his back and murmured a spell. "Now relax and keep your legs spread, dear."

Before Percy could brace himself, the blunt head of Sylas’s cock was pressed against his arsehole. It...didn’t hurt as much as it should have, Sylas sliding into him easily. He might have preferred pain. He let Sylas draw him closer and tried to think of anything but what was happening.

"You’re almost better than your sister," Sylas said, reaching down to stroke Percy’s cock.

Percy had thought he hated the Briarwoods before, but it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He imagined tearing the gun from Delilah’s hand and shooting her with it. No, Sylas first, so she would have to watch. He would leave their bodiesin the same tree where they’d hung his parents and watch the birds peck at their eyes.

He was getting hard in Sylas’s hand.

Delilah took Percy’s face in her hand and laughed. "A delightful little spell, isn’t it? This is so much more fun when you’re enjoying yourself as well."

Percy spat at her. Delilah slapped him, the blow making his mouth bleed again.

"Don’t be rude," she said.

Sylas fucked him harder.. "He’ll learn, dear. Remember how long it took to train Cassandra." He pulled Percy’s head back by the hair and grabbed his cock hard enough to hurt, and to Percy’s horror, he found himself arching into Sylas’s thrusts. He ached with arousal that no amount of touch from Sylas would satisfy, and if he could still speak, he might have been begging.

Delilah raised an eyebrow. "You’re right, Sylas. He’s getting there already."

Finally, finally, Sylas spent himself, and Percy collapsed onto the bed. It took everything he had not to rut against the bedclothes like a dog in heat. He’d make that bitch pay for her magic. He’d make both of them pay.

Delilah pressed a finger into his arse, her fingernail catching on the skin. "You were quite rude to me, Percival."

"We’ll have to punish him," Sylas said.

Percy tried to shrink away, but Sylas caught him by the hips as Delilah pressed something large and cold against his arsehole. Fuck, that was his _gun_. They were going to tear him open. Even whatever godsforsaken spell Delilah had placed him under couldn’t stop his cock from wilting at the pain of unyielding metal forced inside of him. He screamed into the bed, silently begging any god that was listening to just make the pain end.

And then it _did_ end, and that was worse, because as the pain faded the arousal returned.

"Oh, you like that," Delilah murmured, stroking the small of his back as she slid the gun in and out. "Look at him, Sylas."

"He’d take anything you give him, the greedy slut."

Percy screamed again, although it came out like a moan. He wished Delilah would pull the trigger. He couldn’t bear gods only knew how many years of this, nothing but a plaything. He tried to pull away now that Sylas had loosened his grip, but his limbs were heavy and he could only lie there and take what Delilah gave him.

She pulled the gun out of him, leaving his arse stinging and uncomfortably open.

"I have an idea," she said, slapping Percy on the arse. "Turn over."

Percy obeyed, and she pulled him to the head of the bed, lying down next to him. Then she pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple. It was tacky against his skin, and part of him thought distantly about how difficult it would be to clean.

"Now," said Delilah, "we’re going to play a game. You need to bring yourself to orgasm before I can, or I’ll pull the trigger. Sylas?"

"That sounds delightful." Sylas ducked between Delilah’s legs. "I assume you want my help?"

Delilah ruffled his hair. "Of course. You can begin, Percival."

Percy tried to grab his cock with his ruined fingers, but the pain made his erection wilt. Delilah was gasping already, Sylas’s face pressed into her cunt. Percy pressed the base of his palm against his cock and rubbed frantically, trying to chase the arousal that had come so easily when Sylas and Delilah had violated him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to drift away into fantasy, and could have cried with joy when he felt pleasure build up in his gut. But as close as he got to the precipice, he couldn’t bring himself over. Delilah’s moans grew louder, and the gun began to shake against Percy’s head. He groaned in frustration.

Just as he thought he must be close, Delilah screamed Sylas’s name and pulled the trigger.

There was no pain, no retort of a gunshot. Percy’s eyes drifted open, and he saw Delilah laughing as she looked over at him.

"It wasn’t loaded, dear," she said. "And I do have to confess, the dice were loaded from the start. That’s another lovely little trick of this spell – it keeps the target from orgasm unless I say otherwise."

Percy couldn’t breathe. He heard the click of the gun over and over, and pictured dying naked with his hand on his prick and his brains spread across the Briarwoods’ bed.

"Don’t be a poor sport." Delilah set the gun in her nightstand drawer, locking it before she turned back to Percy. "I don’t think you’ve earned back our hospitality yet. Get dressed."

He couldn’t stand. His legs were shaking hard enough to rattle his teeth, and he still couldn’t get a solid breath of air.

"Don’t make us wait, or I’ll throw you in the dungeon naked."

Percy stumbled to his feet, groping for his clothes and throwing them on as quickly as he could without falling over. Delilah dragged him through the castle to the dungeon – not an idle threat, then – and locked him into a set of chains.

"We’ll be back for you when you’ve learned your lesson."

Percy sat back against the cold stone wall, trying to ignore the pain radiating through his mouth and his hands and his arse. As he tried to calm his breathing, he had the absurd thought that Delilah ought to have cleaned his gun. If she put it away covered with spunk, it would rust, and it would be a bitch to polish.

***

Percy came to pressed against the wall, shaking, with all of Vox Machina staring at him. Gods, they’d seen it all. He was going to be sick.

"Percy?" Keyleth held out a hand, drawing back when Percy shook his head furiously. _Fuck off, all of you_. No one reacted. Had it really been an hour?

Vax crouched down and slid the chalkboard across the floor to him. "You don’t need to say anything, but just in case you want to."

Grog looked ready to beat the living daylights out of the first non-ally to cross his path. A welcome change from the horror on the faces of the rest of his friends, if Percy were honest.

"Let’s bring them back so we can kill them again," he said, grinding one fist into his other hand.

Percy couldn’t help but laugh. _Bad idea, but thanks, big guy_, he wrote.

Scanlan read the message to Grog, and then said, "I wish we’d killed them more slowly."

_Don’t tell Cassandra._ Percy glared at the limited space of the chalkboard, flashed his message at the group until one of them nodded, and erased it to scribble out, _Let me, first._

"Are you all right?" Vex asked.

_Stupid question, _Percy wrote, smiling tightly at her.

"Is _Cassandra_ all right?"

_We talked. Says she is._ Percy curled in on himself, wanting to just be _done_ with this. _I want to sleep_.

"You’re eating dinner with us tonight," Vex said.

Percy shrugged. No one would leave him alone if he didn’t. Perhaps this evening he’d actually want to, perhaps he wouldn’t, but he owed it to them._1 condition: no questions_.

Vex nodded. "I think we can all agree to that."

Percy stood, clutching the chalkboard white-knuckled. _Until tonight_, he wrote.

Vax, Keyleth, and Vex followed him to his bedroom, some more subtly than others. _I’m fine_, he wrote, waving it behind him and glaring at them. _See you later._

"Just come and find me if you need anything!" Keyleth said, faux cheer in her voice. "Even just to talk. Or write. Or—I’m here if you need me."

"All right, you’ve made your point." Vax took her by the arm. "Leave him alone."

Vex didn’t say anything, just gave him a tired smile before turning to follow Vax and Keyleth.

Percy collapsed onto his bed fully dressed and not caring that it was barely noon. He fully intended to sleep until someone came to fetch him for dinner. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken some liberties with D&D mechanics. Telepathic Bond probably can't fail as it did here, and for the purposes of this fic, Regenerate and similar spells/mechanics don't exist.


End file.
